Sermon text: Philippians 4:4–7
The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.
Marathon runners, whether they know it or not, pay homage to the legend of Pheidippides. And every time they run the race, they pay tribute to a man who gave his life to a run. As legend goes, Pheidippides ran all the way from the Battle of Marathon to Athens — roughly between 25 and 26 miles — to proclaim the Greek victory over the Persian invaders in 490 BC. But as soon as he crossed the city’s threshold and shouted out, “Rejoice! We rejoice!” — he immediately collapsed dead from his run.
Though accounts vary about Pheidippides and his death, the idea parallels what the apostle Paul has written to the Christians in the city of Philippi: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.” In the Epistle lesson, the command to rejoice begins and ends verse four. And not only is “Rejoice” framed at the beginning and the end of the verse, but the repetition of the command emphasizes Paul’s exhortation that Christians are to have a life filled with joy and rejoicing. We are to be a people who rejoice at the person and the work of Jesus Christ.
Here Paul presents both a farewell and an invitation to the Christians in Philippi to share in his joy: the joy that is, in fact, Jesus Christ. And the language used by Paul, in fact, echoes in the Greek Plutarch’s account of the runner who died shortly after his run from the Battle of Marathon to Athens: chairete — which translates literally, “Rejoice! We rejoice!”
In the case of the Christians in Philippi, their joy, their joy and rejoicing, does not come as a result of an easy life. They’re not rejoicing over temporal goods like we do at Thanksgiving time, or any monetary, momentary rush of chemistry in the brain. Rather, it’s a rejoicing from victory: the victory of life over death, deliverance over oppression, hope over despair. Through the teachings of St. Paul, the Christians at Philippi had come to understand what had been done for them in the gospel of Jesus Christ. They had come to know what was really important to them.
Philippians is an epistle that isn’t written because of controversies, fights, and heresies, but rather their participation in the ministry of the gospel. For with St. Paul, they took joy in the gospel of Jesus Christ and in the fact that their sins were forgiven and that heaven is really their true and ultimate home. As it was for Pheidippides, it may also be for us: namely, joy comes to us in the midst of death and on the brink of the very same. Jesus said, “Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.” They believed those words to be solid and true: a promise irrevocable by God.
We are told to rejoice because the Lord has come to us as our Savior, defeating a far greater enemy than the enemy of the Persians: enemies like sin, death, and the power of the devil himself. No wonder Paul repeats the command: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.” “Sing aloud, O daughter of Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter of Jerusalem!” writes the prophet Zephaniah. Paul: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving.” Rejoicing and thanksgiving are the proper response for the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Advent, you see, is a penitential season, but it calls us to prepare for the coming of Christ by repenting. It’s a mixture of somber meditation and of joyful celebration and great expectation. Today is the third Sunday in Advent. It’s the third Sunday of the pink or rose-colored candle. It’s the candle of joy, of rejoicing, of anticipation with great eagerness of the arrival of the Christ. It’s a Sunday of greatness in a way that we don’t quite understand it right now. The old Latin Sunday name for this Sunday is Gaudete, which means “Rejoice.” And that’s what we’re supposed to do. But it’s easier said than done, isn’t it?
Here in the middle of a penitential season, joy is the theme of two out of three of our readings. And it’s the joy that breaks forth into the prison cell of John the Baptist upon the return of his disciples. Zephaniah, the Old Testament, urges us to sing out loud, to shout, rejoice, and exalt with all of our heart. Israel’s joy, you see, comes from deliverance: from the Lord’s deliverance, from taking away the judgment against them. It comes from the conquering of their enemies and the Lord’s promises to live and be among them.
Today we are being called on to rejoice in the midst of a penitential season, as we prepare for a season of pure joy: Christmas. Yet even as Christmas approaches and the music and traditions of Christmas fill the air, it’s sometimes hard to come by joy, isn’t it? It’s easy for us to feign joy at this time of year. We wear the right ugly sweaters — and if you did that at a restaurant last night we went to, you got yourself a little $5 off your meal deal, right? Just to make you more joyful at the ugliness of the clothes you were wearing. It’s hard to be joyful upon command. It doesn’t quite fit our human experience.
We feign it by drinking the proper portion of eggnog, or decorating a house with ornaments and lights and figurines and a Christmas tree, while all the time pop Christian music plays in the background. We go to parties. We watch A Christmas Story. We exchange presents. We eat some goodies. We do all the things that are expected of us during Christmas, but frequently we do it joylessly. See, everybody can pretend to be joyful. We do it a lot. But mental health experts will tell you that depression and anxiety are at their highest point during the Christmas and Advent seasons. For a great many people, there’s no real joy to be felt or had, even at this Christmas time. For other concerns loom over too great and too powerful.
It would seem for many of us, it’s hard to rejoice at this time of year. Some perhaps have lost a husband or wife, or others a son or daughter no longer willing to come home or not welcome at home. Then there’s the loneliness and barrenness and hopelessness rampant in a broken world: a bad medical diagnosis, hard financial times during a time when you’re expected to pony up extra money, marriages broken, families broken. All these things and more tend to eclipse the joy and rejoicing that should accompany the festival of Christmas.
When we are in the midst of sin and consequences, it’s very difficult in any sincere way to rejoice and exalt in all your heart, or to live with the peace that surpasses all understanding. So we do what we’re expected to do. We fake it. We try to blend in so nobody asks us what’s wrong and makes a bad moment even worse. The truth is, we don’t really want to be anxious for anything, but we are. We’d like to rejoice, but we’re not in the mood. We certainly would like to feel the peace that surpasses all understanding, but every place we turn, there’s a conflict of one sort or another. All that stuff gets in the way.
But you see, the problem is we’re consumed with all the wrong kind of stuff and all the wrong kind of joy. The wrong kind of joy takes pleasure in the wrong kinds of things. Joy for us tends to be rooted in temporal circumstances: whether things are going well, the paycheck makes the bills, and all the other stuff. We don’t think about our spiritual status before the LORD God and our eternal and heavenly home. We’re too busy thinking about the here and now, and thus we only have joy momentarily in the here and now — for a moment, and again, the wrong joy for the wrong kind of things.
The prophet Zephaniah sees the right kind of joy, though. He sees it connected to the LORD God’s promises that He gives to His people. His promises: “I will gather those of you who mourn for the festival, so that you will no longer suffer reproach. Behold, at that time I will deal with all your oppressors. And I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth. At that time I will bring you in, at the time when I gather you together; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes.”
That’s the LORD’s promise, and a promise yet to be fulfilled. But don’t be mistaken: the LORD always keeps His promise. It’s part of the definition of what it means to be the LORD God, Yahweh Elohim. He will do what He says He’s going to do. He will gather us, His church, together with all the saints on the last day. He will take away our reproach. He will deal with our enemies. He will save us and gather us, and He’ll change our shame into glory and praise, and make us famous throughout the whole earth. It should be these promises that result in hope and joy in the heart and mind of the Christian.
But then the question is: when will all of that be? When will we actually experience that great joy and rejoicing in all of its fullness? Well, when will He gather those who mourn for the festival of rejoicing? When will we no longer suffer reproach by our neighbors? When will our oppressors be put to shame and the lame and the outcast brought together? When will He bring us in and restore our fortunes and our health? Well, that was John the Baptist’s question too: “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” Is it time now, or is the time yet to come?
Some argue that John was asking for himself. Others argue that John was asking for the sake of his own disciples: that he sent his own disciples to obtain an answer they needed to hear, not necessarily he needed to hear. Whichever it is, it doesn’t matter much, because the answer comforts every Christian heart and mind when you understand what the answer is. John the Baptist’s job, you see, then and now, is to lead sinners to Christ, to call them to repentance. Then ask for the question: Is Jesus the one? And will you do it now?
Why, John called two of his disciples to him, and he sent them to the Lord, saying, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” In that hour, Jesus healed many people of diseases and plagues and evil spirits, and on many who were blind he bestowed sight. And he answered John’s disciples: “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have good news preached to them. And blessed, happy, is the one who is not offended by me.”
Jesus’s answer to John’s question is to point John’s disciples to the reality of the fulfillment of the promises Jesus is doing right there in time, in that home. Jesus is the one who is coming. There is no other. Where He is, there His promises are made and fulfilled, and true joy is found. As He came in the midst of His people, He came to comfort them in their fears and sorrow and shame and sickness. He came to undo all that robs us of true Christian joy, the joy of our salvation. He came in to take away their sins and to take ours away as well. Where Jesus is, there is our hope and our joy and our rejoicing.
If joy is missing, it’s because you’re focusing on the wrong things. You’re not focused on the forgiveness of sins. The root of the problem is sin and its consequences. You’re not focusing on the forgiveness of sins and life eternal, which is promised to be without tears and suffering and mourning. If you’re wondering where you might find joy, especially this time of year, don’t look at tinsel on the tree, or wrapping paper around gifts, nor wine and eggnog appropriately consumed, or parties and family get-togethers. Look to where Christ is. He’s here in the word and sacrament ministry of the church, doing what He promised to do: namely, absolving you of your sins and securing for you your heavenly home.
That’s the reason Zephaniah tells them to sing and to shout out loud. He wrote: “The LORD has taken away the judgments against you; he has cleared away your enemies. The King of Israel, the LORD, is in your midst.” That’s why they were to celebrate, rejoice, and have joy: not that they’re going to get the physical healing on the spot that they so deeply desire, but rather that their sins have already been forgiven, life and salvation eternally, at the promise of a life eternal without sin, without death, without mourning, without tears, is guaranteed — because God is a God who fulfills His promise.
Paul locates all of his joy in the presence of Jesus Christ: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. The Lord is at hand.” And when Jesus sent men to John, declaring that they had seen what they had seen and heard, joy sprang into the prison cell of John. It filled his and their worried hearts with hope and confidence and buttressed their faith. Wherever Christ is, His work can be heard. Where the promises of healing and restoration ring out, there you will find a peace that surpasses all understanding.
So it goes for you: you who mourn, you who suffer, you who feign joy at this time of year because you can’t muster it up within yourself. Why? Because that comes from within. It’s a joy that comes forth from your old sinful nature, not your new. You see, Christian joy is not found within you. It’s not found in your old sinful nature. Christian joy comes from outside: from the word of God spoken to you, from the word of God you read in the biblical text. It’s the external word that produces true, real joy and rejoicing. And it’s found in Holy Baptism, in confession and absolution, in the body and blood of Christ for the remission of your sins.
Notice all of the things I just noted start out here and go in here. They don’t start here or here and go out there. They begin with the word of God, Christ being spoken and applied to you in the means of grace. It’s why the doctrine of the means of grace is so important. You break that connection, you don’t get the true joy: joy and rejoicing that comes with Christ being with us in the word and sacrament ministry among us. In the word and sacrament ministry, maybe people would be less depressed if they grew up in the church. Doesn’t guarantee it, but maybe they need to return to the place which gave birth to Christmas. Literally: the Lord is here in your midst. He’s among us here in this church: in preaching, in bread and wine, in water and word, in confession and absolution. He comes to do for you what He did for the Israelites of old. He took away the judgment, the condemnation. He came to cast your fear of death and the devil out. He comes with promises fulfilled: the forgiveness of sins. And He does give you the peace that surpasses all understanding: the peace between you and God Himself.
He is here: the King of Israel. The LORD is in your midst, and you shall never again fear evil, Zephaniah says. So rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Not a feigned rejoicing, not a momentary joy, but one that comes and lasts eternally: the eternal joy that began in the waters of your baptism and continues to this day, as you enter His word and sacrament ministry, His church, for your sins are forgiven. And believe it or not, you’re full of joy. Amen.
May the peace that surpasses all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.